Caterpillars
by Fantasism
Summary: Seven years later, they meet once again. But relationships with teenagers are much more complicated than those with children, Garry realizes. Most certainly. Especially when hormones are involved. GarryxIb. Rated T. R&R!
1. Chapter 1

A/n: Best. Freakin'. Game. Based on the Promise of Reunion ending.

I really liked this idea of a teenage!Ib. A lot can change over the years. Especially kids :P

Warnings: Language, themes, etc..

Disclaimer: I don't own Ib :c

–

_Caterpillars_

Chapter 1:

Garry sighed deeply, bringing his hands up to rub at his temples. Closing violet eyes, he tugged at his similarly colored hair in frustration. Mondays. Goddamn them. Damn them straight into Hell.

Releasing his locks, his lids slid open to half mast to stare at the wooden table belonging to the booth he was currently sitting in. Well, there was always this happy ending to a Monday, he supposed. He frequented at this cafe on this cursed day weekly. They had the best coffee, and delightful macaroons. He could probably live off this place. Unfortunately, that wasn't exactly healthy, and so he limited himself to only Mondays.

Which was good for him, he supposed. Work was _horrid _on Mondays, as he was a professor at the local community college. Not only was he in a bad mood, but his students were, too, making it absolutely _awful _to be there. So what if he only taught Art History? It could certainly still be a stressful class, ask any one of the attendees of his class. He made his students work, even if that meant more work for him.

Mind drifting back to _why _he chose this particular career, he shook his head. That had been seven whole years ago. It was time he moved on from that experience, no matter how terrifying it happened to be. His other two companions on his adventure... well, Mary was gone, and Ib was... Ib had probably grown up and over it. Not that he had seen the girl since that last time at the gallery. He'd had no way of getting in contact with her, and he wasn't even sure if she'd want to be in touch with him. He was thirteen years her senior, after all. Pursuing a friendship with her would have been awkward, never mind how her poor parents would have felt with their nine-year-old hanging around with a man twenty-two years of age. No, that probably wouldn't have gone over well.

Nevertheless.

Reaching into his tattered coat pocket, he brought out the handkerchief that little girl had given him so long ago. It was still stained a light pink (who had known blood was so damn difficult to get out?) but otherwise, still in perfect condition. He'd cared for it while it was in his possession, and he wondered to himself when he would ever get the chance to return it. Probably never, he mused. What were the chances of running into Ib again, when he hadn't in seven long years? Very slight, he decided. Still, he carried it around for the miniscule, practically non-existent chance he'd—

"Hey."

Garry practically leaped out of his seat, he was so startled by the sudden, airy voice. His head snapped up, hands crumpling the handkerchief in preparation to shove it back into his pocket, totally forgetting about how good of care he kept of it. Wide, crimson eyes stared back at him, a little curious, and a little victorious, which Garry found a bit strange, to put it mildly. A pale hand came up to brush long brown strands out of those big eyes before a delicate little finger pointed at his fists.

"That for me?"

Mouth going dry, he studied the young woman more closely. She was young alright. Probably a teenager, around sixteen if he had to guess. Same slight frame. Same long dark hair. Same large eyes. Doing the math quickly in his head, he gaped at the kid. "_Ib_?"

A nod.

The man really didn't know what to do. Quite torn was he, between hugging her and playing it cool. Deciding to go with the latter, he sat back into his seat, albeit shakily. With an unsteady hand, he motioned across from him at the empty booth. "Wanna talk?"

In looked over her shoulder, where two girls wearing a uniform similar to hers were staring. When they saw Garry was looking in their direction, they glanced away, giggling behind their hands. The older resisted the urge to wince, tamping it down with the fact Ib was, in fact, taking a seat in front of him, setting down what he assumed to be a school bag on the floor.

Here was an issue—Garry didn't know what to _say_.

Turns out, he didn't have to say anything. Ib—who, he noticed, hadn't made on facial expression change upon seeing him—reached forward and gave him her upturned palm. With a smile, he placed the once-white handkerchief in her hand. "Here."

"Thanks." She placed the cloth into a pocket in her skirt before straightening up, staring at him through her heavy bangs.

An awkward silence overtook them, in which Garry studied Ib. _Again_. He couldn't help it. She looked the same, but she seemed... different almost. Her attitude, maybe? Probably. Garry knew from his own life that teenage angst was not an easy thing to overcome. Besides that, Ib was probably scarred for life over the incident in the Art Gallery. Not only had she almost been killed, but she had to destroy a potential friend.

"H-How are you?" he finally got out. Ib raised a brow.

"Fine. And you?"

He chuckled a bit. "Good. I'm good."

"Good. Now, if you don't mind me asking, where the Hell have you been?"

Garry choked a bit on his own spit. He hadn't been expecting _that_. "Excuse me?"

"Where've you been, Garry?" she asked. Hurt flashed in her eyes. "You said we'd meet again, but you didn't say it'd take _seven_ damn _years_. What gives?"

While the purple-haired man attempted to stutter out an apology, a waitress came over, asking what they'd like. A little hesitantly, Garry ordered two coffees when he received a nod from Ib. Sensing the tension, the waitress scurried off, leaving them alone and leaving Ib free to glare at Garry some more.

"I... I don't—"

Ib shook her head. "It doesn't matter I guess, right?" A small, timid smile stretched her lips the smallest bit. "It only matters that we're together again, I guess." Smile gone, she looked past him, appearing to space out.

"It matters," Garry argued. "You're right. I _did _promise that. I just didn't know how—"

"It's not important," Ib said, cutting him off. The waitress came back with their coffees, and they drank in silence for a moment before Ib spoke up again. "Don't do it again, okay?"

"Okay."

More quiet.

God, why was this so _awkward_? Seven years ago, they had no problem whatsoever making conversation. When she was nine, everything was fine. She didn't get _mad _at him, for Heaven's sake, no matter how short their time together was. But, no. Now she was a _teenager_. The epitome of confusing emotions.

Garry sighed.

He really hated kids.

Yet, something about Ib was drawing him in. Familiarity? No, he hadn't known her that well to begin with.

So what could it be?

She flipped her hair over one shoulder, exposing the smooth, pale column of her neck. Garry's lips suddenly felt dry, and his eyes snapped upwards to meet Ib's before she could notice his less-than-gentlemanly stare. Ib was still Ib, even seven years older. He shouldn't be having these sorts of urges towards her.

"Here." A slip of paper was shoved rather unceremoniously into his fingers, and he grasped it in surprise.

"What?"

"My number," Ib explained. "I'll forgive you for all these years if you remember to call me soon, okay?" A grin slipped onto her face, and he found himself returning the smile.

"Will do, kiddo."

She frowned at that, for whatever reason, then stood, brushing off imaginary wrinkles in her skirt and grabbing her bag. Waving, she walked over to the two girls who were still standing in the middle of the cafe. Both latched onto an arm, whispering loudly.

"Smooth, Ib!"

"Ew, he's, like, _thirty_!"

Color flodded Garry's cheeks as he resisted yelling "_Twenty-nine!_" after the retreating girls. He settled himself, staring at Ib's still mostly-full cup of coffee, and then at the number in his hands.

Why did that thought excite him?

Clearly because Ib was an old friend he with whom he shared an adventure with in the past. He was adamant that he had no ulterior motives whatsoever. No. He had simply missed her companionship. That was _it_.

So why were his ears burning?

Why was his heart pounding?

He shook off the though, laying money for both coffees on the table and standing, exiting the cafe.

He could think about this later. Right now, he really needed a cigarette.

–

A/n: How is it so far? Gimmie feedback!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

He took a drag from his cigarette, letting smoke fill his lungs before letting a deep breath out. Letting his arm hang over the back of his worn couch, Garry glanced at the piece of paper between his fingers. There it was. Eleven seemingly innocent numbers staring back at him, daring him to pick up his phone and dial. He narrowed his eyes at the little instigators.

It had been two days since meeting Ib again in the cafe. Two days of annoying, inner inquirers bouncing around on the inside of his skull, banging on his brain and yelling for answers he did not posses.

What was _horrible _was that Garry shouldn't have to be stressing about this. He was twenty-nine-years-old. He should be able to handle something as inconsequential as a _phone number_. From a girl so much younger than him, no less. He wondered if that were the issue, then shook it off. No, her age shouldn't make him so weary. They'd gotten along just fine when she was nine, and they'd get along alright now that she was sixteen. Seven years shouldn't make a difference.

Well, _that _was a silly assumption. Of course seven years would make a difference. There was no way they _couldn't_.

Garry shifted, putting out his cigarette and then moving forward to let his head hang between his knees. Closing violet eyes, he let his thoughts drift, as per usual. So say he called her. Then... what?

They'd certainly see each other again. And maybe regularly. But what could they _possibly _talk about? What could they have in common? He was an adult, she still a child. She wouldn't understand if he tried speaking about work, and if she tried gossiping, he'd be hopelessly lost.

So why—

Garry shook his head fast, getting himself a bit dizzy in the process as he jumped to his feet. No more pondering, he decided. He'd always been a curious, thoughtful individual, but sometimes, action was better.

Without further ado, he grabbed his old-fashioned flip-phone from the table next to his couch that also held his ashtray, holding up the slip of paper with surprisingly steady hands and dialing.

The line rung three times, and Garry debated hanging up, but then there was a faint _click _and an even fainter _"Hello?" _from the other line.

"Hi," the man answered back.

There was silence for a moment, then, _"Who's this?"_

Garry frowned. Did Ib regularly give her number out, then, to not know who it was when an unfamiliar number called? That made him feel a bit upset. Shaking it off, he said, "Garry."

_"Oh!" _There was shuffling from Ib's end, and if he listened closely, he could have sworn he heard something heavy drop to the ground, creating a dull _thud_. _"Funny, I almost thought you wouldn't call."_

_ I almost didn't_. Dismissing the thought, he laughed. "Really, now? You used to have so much faith in me!"

_"You used to be the only one I _could _have faith in."_

She had a point.

Garry flopped onto his back, staring at the ceiling. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he tried to start over. "So, uh, how have you been? I mean, how was your day?"

_"It was okay."_

"...Learn anything new in school?"

_"You sound like my mom."_

He winced. He _felt _like her mom. Or, at the very least, a distant adult. Which, he supposed was what he really was.

_"This is weird,"_ she finally said after a moment of quiet.

He nodded, then, realizing she couldn't see, added, "Yes, it is."

_"What are you doing right now?" _she asked.

Garry looked around his small living room. "Not much," he admitted. "Why?"

_"Do you want to meet me somewhere?"_

–

An hour later, and he was in the park thirty minutes away from his home. It had been a bit of a drive, but he supposed it was worth it. Ib certainly seemed happy about it.

Well, sort of. She had smiled, at the very least, but that was the extent of it. He wondered why she was so... blank all the time. Was it trauma? From the incident? He wouldn't doubt it. She'd only been a little girl...

"What are you thinking about?" Ib inquired, staring straight at him. He felt his cheeks heat up. She certainly had no quandary with eye contact. Garry had to admit, it made him feel a little uncomfortable. Like she was scrutinizing him, judging. It made him feel less like an adult and more like a child. Which he couldn't say he liked.

He shrugged. "Nothing."

She pursed her lips, obviously not believing him, but he grinned at her, reaching out and patting her on the head. "Don't worry about it, kid," he told her.

Was that a pout? "I'm not a kid."

"Of course you are," he argued. "You're what—sixteen?"

"I'm a young adult!"

Garry couldn't help the teasing smirk that settled on his face, just above his chin and right below his nose. "You've always been a little adult," he told her. "Like a mini-grown-up." That was true. She'd been mature, knowing just what she wanted. She hadn't whined, hadn't given up, like most children tended to do.

He hated those kinds of kids, but Ib had never been a child, since he'd known her.

She crossed her arms, however, finally turning her gaze from him, towards a swing set. They had a clear view of the playground from their spot on a bench. "Sure," she mumbled.

Smiling, he patted her head, to which she swatted his hand away. "That's so condescending," she said, irritable.

"Whoa, that's a big word, Ib," he teased. "I remember when you hardly knew _any _words exceeding two syllables."

"Oh, shush. I was nine."

"I know, I know."

They sat in silence for a moment, but for once, it wasn't uncomfortable. They were simply enjoying each others company, and it was almost nice. No, it _was _nice. It felt right. Why? Quiet moments were usually awkward, tense.

Then again, Ib had been quiet when she was younger, and he never had an issue with it.

"What have you been doing the last few years?" she finally asked, though she wasn't looking at him. Instead, her gaze was fixed on the ground.

"Just regular life things, I suppose. I rented an apartment, got a job at the local college." He chuckled at his next thought. "Art History."

That gained him a laugh. "Really?" She glanced at him through heavy lashes, lips formed into a grin.

Garry nodded, and Ib laughed again.

He liked her laugh. Quite a lot, if he were being honest with himself.

"What else?" she asked. Sudden color flooded her cheeks. "Are you married?"

He shook his head, purple locks flying about his ears. "No."

"Oh."

"How about you?" she gave him a strange look, and he corrected himself, "I'm not asking if you're married, of course. That's silly. Um, what has your life been like?"

Ib shrugged, looking at her feet which swung above the ground. "Normal, for a teenager, I suppose. I go to school, hang out with my friends, do my homework, and go to bed. Nothing especially exciting or adventurous." Unexpectedly, she stood. "Speaking of, I have to get going now, though. I have classes tomorrow." She bit her lip, looking a bit worried. "You'll call again, right?"

He smiled softly at her, rising to his feet. He ruffled her hair once more. "Of course."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Stop that," she demanded. Then, she raised a hand, crooking her finger at him in a gesture to come closer. He slouched down a bit, and she rose onto her toes.

And then she kissed him.

Millions of questions ran through his mind. _Why _was Ib doing this? To him? She was just a little girl. Young woman. Teenager. Whatever she was, she was _young_. Thirteen years his junior. She shouldn't _kiss _him.

Yet, he found himself unable to pull away.

It was simple and sweet, just the pressing of lips together. Her hands on his shoulders, his hanging loosely by his sides. Her eyes was closed, and he almost wanted his to be, too. He almost wanted to enjoy this.

Alas, she pulled away, cheeks flushed a flattering shade of pink. He was sure he matched.

"Bye," she said.

Then she walked away.

–

A/n: Sorry this took so long OTL. Life gets in the way, y'know?

I appreciated all the reviews! You guys are awesome, keep at it!

R&R!


	3. Chapter 3

A/n: So sorry for the long wait D: I suck, I know.

Chapter 3:

Ib sighed, dainty hands coming to run through dark brown locks of hair. Wide crimson eyes took in the sight of two girls across from her. They were in the very same cafe that, a week ago, Ib met up with that person.

Garry.

The sixteen-year-old had to keep from sighing outloud again.

Ib was not a child. She did not fancy fairy tales nor did she believe in love at first sight or happily ever after. She was a realist, prefering to take things in as she saw them, and over analyze every situation to keep herself alive. Call it a quirk from her trauma as a child, a disorder, whatever. Her survival instincts just ran on a higher level, is all.

But Garry... Well, she'd been in love with him since she was nine.

Of course, at the time she hadn't known she was in love. Oh, no. She looked up to the violet-haired man like he was another father, a brother even. She gave him the kind of adoration children were supposed to give adults. Time went without seeing him, and her heart ached. She ignored it at first, but she could not keep the harping fact of his absence away for very long. Soon enough, she began dreaming of him, dreaming of kissing and touching him, and letting him touch her where no one else had before and-

Porcelain cheeks heated up in a blush. Now was not the time nor place for thoughts such as that.

"So let me get this straight," One of the girls across from Ib started. She had red hair, but Ib knew it was dyed. The layers fell to the bottom of her breasts in fiery waves, and her big golden eyes regarded Ib with sick satisfaction. Ib new her friend was enjoying this superiority. "You kissed a guy old enough to be your father?"

"Oh, shush, Savannah," the blonde besides her cut in. This girl had short, curly hair and glittery blue eyes that boys could get lost in. "Ib said he was only, like, thirty."

"Twenty-nine," Ib interjeced, "But thanks, Molly."

Molly gave Ib a thumbs-up and Savannah rolled her eyes. "All I'm saying," Savannah began again, "Is that, isn't it weird to be dating a guy who's almost twice your age? I mean, usually I'm the one getting in unhealthy relationships and you're the good friend. What gives?"

"It's not called dating," Ib said. "We never even talked about feelings. I kind of just kissed him and bailed."

It was Molly's turn to sigh then. "Ib!" she scolded, "You can't just do that! Imagine how what's-his-face feels. He's probably goig crazy."

Ib shrugged. "I'm not worried about that. He's an adult. He can handle himself." Biting her lip, she continued, "Besides, he's not interested. He hasn't called me since."

Savannah's eyes suddenly lit up. "Well here's your chance to talk to him. He just walked in."

Sure enough, when Ib whipped around, Garry was standing in the entryway, hair wind-blown and oh, so perfect that she couldn't take it. Not that she'd ever show that part of her, though.

Blowing her bangs out of her face, Ib rose from the booth she was situated in and began walking towards the man who was sitting down at another. She held her head up high in determination, though her heart was pounding and she could hear blood rushing through her ears and, oh dear, was she supposed to be this light-headed?

Immediately, she shook those thoughts out of her brain. Stopping by Garry's booth, she opened her mouth and teased, "What, are you stalking me now?"

The older, to put it gently leapt out of his seat in surprise. His brows furrowed when he saw who was talking to him, but the look smoothed out pretty quickly. "I've been coming here for months," he retorted. "I think you're the one stalking me. Am I right?"

Ib smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know."

All the joking flew out the window when Garry motioned to the place across from him. "Sit down, kid," he said, "We need to talk."

Stomach twisting in painful knots, Ib did as she was told. Oh, she knew where this was going. She so regretted kissing him. Well, not so much kissing him as the consequnces. Those were not nearly as fun as the actual kissing.

"What's up?" She sounded flippant. Good. Awesome.

She'd long learned to hide her emotions.

Garry bit the inside of his cheek. Ib certainly sounded carefree, but that didn't mean he felt the same. His throat was threatening to constrict and colapse on itself and his fingers shook. "We can't-" his voice was an octave too high, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "We can't see each other anymore."

The man had given this lots of thought. He didn't know this Ib-this Ib was dangerous. She threatened to upturn his whole way of life and destroy everything in her path. She was a terrorist on his mind, and he couldn't risk being with her. He had liked the feel of her lips. Liked it way too much. And so he needed to end... this.

Whatever this was.

"Is this because I kissed you?" Ib asked bluntly. Garry felt his ears burn. Ib didn't seem at all shaken up by this.

"Yes."

Fially, he earned a response. A frown settled on her mouth. "Garry," she sad softly, "I apologize if I made you uncomfortable. I was just so excited to be with you, I lost myself. But I'm not the only one to blame."

Garry raised a brow. "Excuse me?"

"You're always calling me a kid," she scowled. "So that means you're the adult, and should take responsibility for this."

"For what?" Garry inquired incredously.

"Making me love you." Her eyes narrowed in accusation and determination. "Garry, you're the grown up here, therefore you need to be the one to take action."

He was trying to take action! That's what him suggesting they stay away from each other way. "And how do I do this?" He questioned.

"By loving me," she said, nodding with a finality.

"What do you think they're talking about?" Molly asked squinting over at the couple a few booths away.

Savannah shrugged. "Probably what dirty things they're going to do to each other when they get home."

Molly blused. "You're awful."

Savannah grinned. "I know."

A/N: Again, so sorry for the wait! They'll be coming faster now that the holidays are almost over.

R&R!


End file.
